


Possession

by Measured_Words



Category: Diablotin
Genre: Anal Sex, Bisexual Male Character, Burns, Crying, Demon Sex, Demons, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, Fights, Fire, Gay Male Character, Kissing, M/M, Power Imbalance, Rough Sex, Unrequited Love, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-26
Updated: 2012-05-26
Packaged: 2017-11-06 01:28:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/413213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Measured_Words/pseuds/Measured_Words
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justen had been going on about this place all week - something about humanity at its most honest, and also good beer, and since his class had gotten out early he'd decided to come and see what all of the fuss was about.  They did have surprisingly good ale for Pearl, but the real reason to come was to watch Justen be Justen, making friends with everyone and getting drunk with the locals and arguing and laughing, and maybe going home at the end of the day with him and leaving them all behind.  Only Justen wasn't here, and maybe he was coming, and maybe he wasn't, but it was clear that the girl across from him wasn't taking too kindly to being ignored.</p>
<p>---------------<br/>Xan gets himself into trouble, and the extremity of Justen's reaction is unexpected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possession

Xan looked up from his book only briefly when he felt someone else plop down into the seat across the booth from him - some girl with curled hair and too much makeup, especially for this time of day. The readings they'd been assigned in his illusionist seminar were both tricky and engaging - much more so than anyone he'd expect to find in this little riverside dive. But he wasn't here to meet people.

"You're not the usual type we get in here, handsome," she purred at him. When he didn't answer, she gave his book a playful push. 

"I'm just waiting for a friend." Justen had been going on about this place all week - something about humanity at its most honest, and also good beer, and since his class had gotten out early he'd decided to come and see what all of the fuss was about. They did have surprisingly good ale for Pearl, but the real reason to come was to watch Justen be Justen, making friends with everyone and getting drunk with the locals and arguing and laughing, and maybe going home at the end of the day with him and leaving them all behind. Only Justen wasn't here, and maybe he was coming, and maybe he wasn't, but it was clear that the girl across from him wasn't taking too kindly to being ignored.

"I don't imagine a guy like you has many friends around here." She was still smiling sweetly, but there was an edge to her tone that made him wary. Her fingers drummed an impatient tattoo on the tabletop, and as he closed his book he realized that their conversation had drawn the attention of some of the other patrons.

Xan knew he should be careful, but it galled him to be intimidated, so he flashed her a sardonic smile. "I can usually find friends enough when I care to, but perhaps you're right and this isn't the place." He rose with a curt nod, collecting his book and tossing a few copper on the table to cover his unfinished drink.

The wary feeling didn't pass once he got outside, and he was sure he'd heard the scrape of another chair against the cobble floor as he'd stepped out into the cool spring afternoon. He glanced back, acting casual, once he was a few doors down, but saw no one. Just as he was starting to think he could relax, someone reached out from a narrow alley and slammed him hard up against the wall. The wind was knocked out of him, and his head hit the stone with a dizzying crack. He managed not to drop his book right away, holding it up to protect his face from the next blow Another landed painfully in his ribs, and he doubled over, trying to twist free of his assailant's grip. The fabric of the silk tunic he'd pilfered from his father's closet tore at the seam as he did, and somehow that, as much as the pain, brought on a surge of panic.

It was quashed before it reached its full force, however, by a distant shout - Justen's voice yelling out, "Hey! Fucking get off him!" Before the man attacking him had a chance to turn fully around, Justen was there, pushing him into the stone wall instead. Xan stumbled free, dazed but greatly relieved. A low laugh escaped his throat as he watched, leaning against the building a few paces away. The man fought back, delivering a quick punch to Justen's gut, but the other boy hardly seemed to notice as he brought his fist down on his opponent's face. 

For him - Justen was doing this for him. The knowledge brought a thrill to the violence he hadn't expected, and he felt himself flush. He smiled at the viciousness of it all, until the man screamed, going limp, the smell of brimstone in the air. Justen, breathing hard, face set, red eyes flickering, raised his fist again while the other, fear revealing his youth, tried feebly to lift his arms to protect himself from the blow, and from the blaze of infernal heat.

“Justen,” he wheezed, but he wasn’t heard, or was ignored. “You can stop, let’s go.”

Justen didn’t stop.

Pushing himself off the wall, Xan stepped unsteadily over to him, reaching out through the burning air to lay a hand on his arm, hot to the touch even through his clothes. The other boy whirled on him, eyes like dancing embers, burning with rage, passion, all for him. His gaze was unfocused, as if he wasn’t quite seeing Xan at all, but he let go of the man from the bar, who fell sobbing to the ground. Justen wouldn’t want to hurt him, not seriously, he was just upset, upset for him, just lost it a little. Xan didn’t think too hard about it, just leaned up and kissed him, pressed himself to the feral snarl, and burned. It was like putting his face to a flame. His lips blistered, and Justen’s parted only slowly, hot tongue assaulting him when he did, hot fingers now gripping his arms far more firmly than strictly necessary. Xan didn’t dare open his eyes until the heat receded, but the falling-away feeling in the pit of his stomach told him they were no longer in the alley.

When he did open his eyes, they were back at Justen’s, in his bedroom. The burning was still there, though less intense, like Justen hadn’t quite got it under control, but look in his eyes was a more familiar passion, though no more restrained or focused than his earlier violence. It hurt to smile, but he did anyway, because Justen still had him, hadn’t let him go, and it had been a little scary but a lot sexy. He opened his mouth to say so but found himself invaded again, and gave himself over to the heedless passion of the kiss instead.

Justen was as, if not more turned on than he was - his cock was straining at his trousers and Xan could feel its heat too, pressed up against his body. Thinking he knew how to bring the other boy back to himself, Xan reached for it, slipping his hand inside his lover’s waistband. Justen gave a moan, or a snarl, pressing his dick into Xan’s grip, squeezing him harder for a moment before reaching up both hands to the collar of his tunic and tearing the weakened fabric open, pushing it off him.

Any guilt he felt over the summary destruction of his borrowed clothing was currently overwhelmed by his lust, his desire to give himself over completely to Justen, to let him take whatever it was he needed, let Justen claim the prize he’d won. It wasn’t that his lover was ever reserved, but this was a depth of his passion they had not yet explored. Xan shifted now that he was sufficiently unrestrained, giving Justen his true self but keeping his wings folded against his back for now. With his free hand, Xan deftly opened the front of Justen’s trousers, shoving them down past his hips so that he could reach his own prize more readily.

He’d thought to kneel and suck him off, but Justen seemed to have no patience for preeamble, and pushed him back effortlessly on the bed. Laughing, knowing what was coming, he loosed the drawstring on his own pants, staring to wiggle free just as his lover fell upon him, stripping him bare in one quick motion, holding Xan down while he kicked free of the fabric bunching around his legs with a snarl. His touch, skin to skin, was still hot, and his mouth left red welts where he pressed it hungrily to Xan’s body.

Justen was much stronger, and Xan couldn't have stopped him even if he'd wanted to. But he didn't, of course he didn't, even when Justen flipped him forcefully over, grabbing on to one of his wings to pin him down in place against the bed. Then he knew what was really coming, and felt a rush of adrenaline, excitement and fear all at once, pointing his ass up in anticipation. The penetration was still more violent than he’d expected - there was no lube, no spit, no fingers for a warm up, no slow pressing inside him inch by inch, nothing but one hard shove and he was full. He cried out - it hurt, well more than his first time, as under-prepared as he’d been for that. And there was no reprieve, no moment to catch his breath or try and relax into it, just rough thrust after rough thrust pounding in to him, tearing him apart.

But it was Justen, and he was all Xan had ever wanted, no matter what, even now, even like this. Justen wanted him too, needed him desperately, and Xan was his, and would give him anything. He came hard despite the pain, spending his load across the bed despite the tears and sobbing that he couldn’t hold back or muffle against his arm. But Justen wasn’t finished yet, grunting hard with each thrust, the fire in him rising again. The skin where Justen held his hip burned, the wing he gripped felt hot and he could smell singed feathers. More than that his ass burned with the heat of it, of friction and fucking and Justen’s brimstone birthright slipping out of control. Xan pushed back against him, still wanting to help him despite everything, and wanting it to be over before he couldn’t take it any more. He had to endure, because he loved him, because he’d wanted this, and wanted Justen to know that whatever happened, it was alright. Words tumbled from his blistered lips - “yes”, and “please”, and mostly “Justen”. The heat and pace increased together, and Xan screeched when Justen finally came, burning hot come shot deep inside him. It took everything he had left not to pull away from the final shuddering thrusts, but he could feel the fire drawn back, the hard grip loosed as his lover came back to himself, pulling out and pulling away.

“Xan, shit! I’m sorry!” Justen sounded horrified, ashamed, and reached out tentatively to touch the younger boy’s shoulder. “You’re hurt - I hurt you," he babbled, panicked, “there’s blood on.... on my... and you’re bleeding, I’m so sorry...”

Xan couldn’t stop crying, and twisted around, carefully crawling across the bed to lay his head in Justen’s lap. “’M okay,” he answered through the sobs, kissing his thigh, his stomach, “It’s okay..”

“It’s not - it’s not okay at all, I just wanted to protect you and... and look at you, I did this, I hurt you worse...” He stroked Xan’s fine blond hair, pushing it away from his face to try and see what other damage he’d wreaked, but Xan turned away, burying his face against Justen’s leg, reaching to guide his lover down to the bed so he could crawl up and spill the rest of his tears on Justen’s chest.

“Shut up, Justen, it's okay.” 

Hesitantly, Justen wrapped his arms around him, holding him close and drawing a new round of sobbing out of Xan, this time of relief. He fell into a troubled quiet, holding his lover and stroking his hair, his back, his wings, soothing him until the flood of tears subsided into quiet sniffles. Xan lifted his head. He was still hiding most of his face behind his arms, but he met Justen’s eyes. “I’m alright, I’m going to be alright,” he repeated, trying to sound confident despite the rasp to which the crying had reduced his voice, and despite his aching body and the queasy feeling building in the pit of his stomach. It wouldn’t help to say that it wasn’t his fault; Justen would never believe it. Xan didn’t blame him, but knew he couldn’t just excuse himself, whatever the circumstances “You didn’t mean it to happen, it wasn’t on purpose, I know...”

Justen nodded, hugging him closer, lips pursed tightly and brow furrowed, unwilling or unable to forgive himself that easily. They lay together that way, Xan relishing the closeness and intimacy, the power he had to comfort Justen’s worries with his body and even with just his presence. It couldn’t last forever though - the longer they lay still, the harder it was for him to ignore the ache of his burns, the still bright and searing burning in his ass that felt like he'd been fucked with a hot knife. He squirmed, trying to find some better position, but it didn’t seem to help matters at all.

“Xan?”

He didn’t want to talk about it - his lips hurt when he did say anything, and he felt too drained after all that crying - so he shifted, letting Justen help him sit up. Xan’s hair hung across his face, but he knew it wasn’t enough to hide the burns there, the ones he’d incurred when he’d first kissed him in the alley. “I guess I should get cleaned up.”

Getting cleaned up inevitably meant going home. He could sleep it off and see how things looked the next day, and think of some story to cover his injuries if it was necessary. He didn’t have classes again until the afternoon, and should be safe enough hiding in his room. One of his parents might even have a potion he could take if he got desperate, but for now he didn’t want to think about needing one. Justen collected his clothes - what remained of them, and passed them to him with a heart-breaking guilty look. Xan smiled reassuringly as he accepted them, balling up the fabric, and squeezing Justen’s hands. “I’ll see you around, okay?”

Justen flashed him an uncertain smile in return, but the troubled look remained. The only way to erase it would be to show him he was okay, and the only way to do that would be to recover himself, which he couldn’t do here. One more squeeze and he teleported away, back to his own room where he could lie down and sort through his pains in peace.

The familiarity of his bedroom was less comforting than he'd hoped - it felt very empty and cold, and he didn't have the energy to try and worm his way underneath his own sheets. Moving at all hurt, the blankets were rough against his burns and the fire in his ass was only growing worse, creeping up into his stomach to mingle with his growing nausea. Afraid to look at himself, Xan lay on his bed, shaking, tears gripping him with an unexpected ferocity as he tried to let go of the pain, and, once he let himself be honest, of his fear. He wished Justen were still there to hold him, but he could never, ever, let the other boy know how badly shaken he felt right then. It was, he told himself, his turn to be the protector.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Protector](https://archiveofourown.org/works/413963) by [Nary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/pseuds/Nary)




End file.
